Fortress of Solitude

Why does Kal-El seek out solitude?
Ironically coming from one with a lone wolf aptitude
Kal-El is superior. TRUTH, with no attitude
I guess the truth is I'm sick and tired of platitudes
I HATE the use of sarcasm as a barrier between two souls
I despise small talk and fulfilling conversational roles
I want to go off on tangents and talk about anything and everything
I LOVE listening, feed my aural orifice it needs lathering
Of earnest diction penetrating my ear drums and setting a blaze to my mind
SIGH..."Pleasant weather we're having"
Small talk is demon-spawn, purposeless, what happened to depth?
What happened to being comfortable sitting in silence, gathering your thoughts without vocally puncturing the air with your breath?
SIGH... "How are you?"
"Fine! Good! Alright! I'm not surprised!"
We ask the same questions over & over again why not open your eyes?
All three of them! Open yourself up to oil those mental cogs
Without the need of a social lubricant because I am SICK of going to the bars!
Sick of people needing a shot of liquid confidence
My conscience points the finger back at me
You play the game too your eminence 
I do, I do, I do
It's true, It's true, It's true
What right do I have to accuse if I'm guilty as charged?
I play the game because it takes two to tango, leaving myself intellectually parched  
If I stopped it would be awkward
But...I am awkward
And in this day and age, it's cool to be awkward  
I guess I've ran out of excuses
It is easier to conform than to act in the face of fear
Easier still to privately criticize but in public say deuces
To my opinions and individuality, unless I have a beer
I guess I have to face the truth
Either I have to change
Or...
Or...
I'm deranged? 

Screw all this existentialist brooding in my polo
The meaning to life is simple: YOLO

Wallflower III

I should talk more
I really am a bore, sometimes
Never choose conversation over writing rhymes
Or getting to know someone over old times
Its a sigh and a pity
To deal with it, I make it sound witty, make it sound pretty
Doll it up like Hello Kitty
Like the itsy bitsy spider, I'm a fighter
Encased in this shell
Padded with excuses, stay maintained like A Dell
Why can't anyone else tell?
I mean well
All I need is a Keenan to my Kel and a large attendance when the bell knells
Reach out to me...
My mental plane hovers
I talk to myself more than I talk to others
Wear a mask of masculinity around my brothers
Split in two roles yet whole, am I my mother?
Am I my mother?
Am I my mother??

Wallflower II

I savor my words, a connoisseur of diction
What is the point in discussing purposeless matters of fiction?
My way with words cannot be bandied about, purpose behind diction
Cold cuts of words, no gout. No doubt, in my mind
That what I speak is the truth
Confident in my insecurities to let loose and release
A verbal barrage of lyrical imperfection
Mental projection
Manifestation of my destiny
Can't you see?
Big words and speaking fast makes me think I sound smart
Impressing others secondary to creating art
What is art?

Created for the recognition and appraisal of others
The only accurate depiction of lovers
Justification for men moving back in with their mothers
Helps your eyes roll back when you're under the covers
So I talk to myself and I talk to others   

Wallflower

They said I should talk more
What a bore
With the courtesy of an itchy sore
Festering, brooding, puss squeezing out the door of my mind
For one does not simply walk into Mordor!
Please, please, please sir may we have some more?